“Why, children!” Aunt Polly met them at the door, for she had long ago come back from taking Mother Blossom to town. “Has anything happened? I found Dot in the hammock crying for her doll and–––But Twaddles is dripping!”
“He fell in the brook,” explained Bobby concisely.
“Poor lamb!” comforted Aunt Polly. “Come upstairs, dear, and Auntie will see that you’re rubbed dry. And Bobby and Meg, don’t stand around in those wet shoes one minute. Change them immediately.”
Half an hour later four clean, dry little Blossoms were at the table enjoying Linda’s delicious soup and other good things. The day had turned to a cold, rainy, dismal one, very different from the promise of the sunny summer morning. Aunt Polly said they would have to manufacture their own sunshine that afternoon.
“You mustn’t think of going to hunt for the toys till to-morrow, and only then if it’s clear,” she announced firmly. “Likely as not the raft sank, and you mustn’t feel too bad about the toys. You’ll find plenty of other things to play with on the farm.”
All that afternoon it poured, and all that afternoon the four little Blossoms spent in Linda’s kitchen cooking and pulling molasses candy. They had the sweetiest, stickiest time 79 you ever heard of, and when about six o’clock the rain stopped and the sun came out pure yellow gold, they had a plate of beautiful cream-colored candy to take to Mrs. Peter Apgar.
“Who wants to help me milk?” asked Jud, passing the kitchen door as they were talking to his mother.
“Oh, Jud, I do!” begged Meg. “You promised to show me how.”
“We’ll all come,” said Bobby. “Aunt Polly isn’t going to have supper till seven o’clock to-night, ’cause the minister is coming. We’ve got oceans of time.”